'What?'
'Not over the phone.'
'Jesus,' she said. 'Tonight is absolutely impossible, Matt. I have an engagement.'
'I thought Kermit was out playing golf.'
'That doesn't mean I sit home alone.'
'I can believe that.'
'You really are a bastard, aren't you? I was invited to a party. A perfectly respectable party, the kind where you keep your clothes on. I could meet you tomorrow if it's absolutely necessary.'
'It is.'
'Where and when?'
'How about Polly's? Say around eight o'clock.'
'Polly's Cage. It's a little tacky, isn't it?'
'A little,' I agreed.
'And so am I, huh?'
'I didn't say that.'
'No, you're always the perfect gentleman. Eight o'clock at Polly's. I'll be there.'
I could have told her to relax, that the ball game was over, instead of letting her spend another day under pressure. But I figured she could handle the pressure.
And I wanted to see her face when I let her off the hook. I don't know why. Maybe it was the particular kind of spark we struck off each other, but I wanted to be there when she found out that she was home free.
Huysendahl and I didn't strike those sparks. I tried him at his office and couldn't reach him, and on a hunch I tried him at home. He wasn't there, but I managed to talk to his wife. I left a message that I would be at his office at two the next afternoon and that I would call again in the morning to confirm the appointment.
'And one other thing,' I said. 'Please tell him that he has absolutely nothing to worry about. Tell him everything's all right now and everything will work out fine.'
'And he'll know what that means?'
'He'll know,' I said.
I napped for a while, had a late bite at the French place down the block, then went back to my room and read for a while. I came very close to making an early night of it, but around eleven my room started to feel a little bit more like a monastic cell than it generally does. I'd been reading The Lives of the Saints, which may have had something to do with it.
Outside it was trying to make up its mind to rain. The jury was still out. I went around the corner to Armstrong's. Trina gave me a smile and brought me a drink.
I was only there for an hour or so. I did quite a bit of thinking about Stacy Prager, and even more about her father. I liked myself a little less now that I'd met the girl. On the other hand, I had to agree with what Trina had suggested the night before. He had indeed had the right to pick that way out of his trouble, and now at least his daughter was spared the knowledge that her father had killed a man. The fact of his death was horrible, but I could not easily construct a scenario which would have worked out better.
When I asked for the check Trina brought it over and perched on the edge of my table while I counted out bills. 'You're looking a little cheerier,' she said.
'Am I?'
'Little bit.'
'Well, I had the best night's sleep I've had in a while.'
'Is that so? So did I, strangely enough.'
'Good.'
'Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say?'
'Hell of a coincidence.'
'Which proves there are better sleeping aids than Seconal.'
'You've got to use them sparingly, though.'
'Or you get hooked on them?'
'Something like that.'
A guy two tables away was trying to get her attention. She gave him a look, then turned back to me. She said, 'I don't think it'll ever get to be a habit. You're too old and I'm too young and you're too withdrawn and I'm too unstable and we're both generally weird.'
'No argument.'
'But once in a while can't hurt, can it?'
'No.'
'It's even kinda nice.'
